Chapter Text
"Polle says: We want you to join our crew!"
I stared at the old TV as it blasted the grating, cartoonish voice. The third ad for the Pony Express I'd seen this week. A sign for me to apply, or desperation on their end? Lord help me, I was sick and tired of that horse.
I turned off the TV, laying back against the couch. My body ached. It had been so long, too long, since I'd eaten a proper meal, since I could even afford half-decent ingredients.
I stared at the stack of old medical textbooks on the coffee table. I couldn't get any further than where I was now on just this.
I turned the TV back on. A voice, uncannily human even though I knew, deep down, it wasn't, spoke. "Come to the first day of summer training to apply. Your skills will be tested at training and, if you are fit for space travel, you will be assigned to a freighter."
I looked down at myself. I hadn't showered in a while either; I scarcely used water for any more than I needed to get by. I stared at the TV again.
I got up, limbs heavy as I went into the bathroom, turning on the shower. I began to undress, staring at my reflection in the mirror.
The ice-cold water was a welcome reprieve from the boiling heat that seeped into the apartment even with the air conditioner on full blast. I washed my hair with watered-down shampoo and conditioner, the faint floral scent grounding me.
I looked down at my body. Was I always that thin? I simply never had the energy to eat, let alone cook something with the meager ingredients I could afford. When I did get something worth eating, I'd ration it over the course of a few days so that I could cherish it.
I shook it off, washing my body slowly. I glanced at my razor and considered shaving. But then I'd be in the shower practically forever, and I know all too well I can't afford that.
Why do I even keep the razor?
My gaze lingered on my upper thighs.
Oh. Right.
I arrived at training early. What else did I have to do anyway? It was in a large, spacious gym, with large fans, whirring gently as they blew cool air across the place. The air felt almost fucking orgasmic on my skin with how long I'd been sentenced to either the boiling heat, or an ice-cold shower.
The captain of one of the freighters was, apparently, going to supervise our physical training. He looked nice. I caught his name. Curly. His hair looked more wavy to me.
The other girls who had gotten there early looked much better cleaned up than I did. Their clothes were neat and almost looked new, and their hair was tied back in neat ponytails. They were crowding around Curly and giggling. A couple snuck glances back at me.
I was told male interns did training at a different site. Perhaps for the better. I know how men can be.
But god, can girls be mean. I could sense the things they said to me in unspoken glances at each other.
We began with introducing ourselves. We sat in a circle, said our names, ages, and our jobs.
Curly started. His name was Grant Curly, thirty-four years old, captain of the Tulpar.
Most of the other girls worked retail. Some were only eighteen, some were even younger. I was only twenty-three but I felt old.
I swallowed when it got to my turn. I spoke quietly, barely recognizing my own voice. "I'm Anya, I'm twenty-three, and… I quit my old job at a department store and I'm studying for nursing school."
A few murmurs could be heard across the circle.
"She quit her job? Willingly?"
I quit for a reason, I restrained myself from saying. I bit my tongue only because I hated speaking more than necessary, and if I show any weakness, these girls will make sure to squeeze out every drop of insecurity and weakness from me.
Curly smiled. "Well, hey, maybe if you do well here, you could board the Tulpar. Training for our crew is just next month, and you're old enough. I bet it's hard getting by without a job."
I nodded, mouth going dry. I attempted to ignore the other girls' glares in my direction.
We moved on to stretching. Most of the others were freakishly limber. Every time Curly glanced my way, I silently apologized with my eyes. I'm doing my best.
It helped me, though, that even with my shaking and sore muscles that hadn't been worked in years, I could hold a plank longer than any of the other girls. Not longer than Curly, but it would be an achievement if I could.
He led us through a workout routine. Most of the others seemed distracted and kept staring at him. I didn't entirely see the appeal.
We took a break, sitting by the fans and talking. I sat more to the side, but I picked up snippets of conversations.
"I hope I don't get assigned to the Tulpar…"
What's wrong with the Tulpar? I began to panic. Did something horrible happen aboard that freighter?
"I know, as long as he's part of that crew I'll die before I go on that ship."
One of the other girls rolled her eyes. "As long as Curly's captain, that guy's gonna be right there with him. It's annoying."
They kept talking, but I barely registered. Did Curly knowingly have someone horrible with his crew? Was he supervising the training to find someone for this guy to prey on? Could he really be that awful?
No. I refuse to believe that.
He sat down next to me and smiled. I couldn't find it in me to smile back.
Training was a month long. Way too long for me to be around all these girls.
I pretended not to notice the whispers directed at me, the glares whenever I spoke to Curly.
One time, Curly hugged me. I had started crying in the middle of a workout and so he walked over and hugged me. An innocent gesture. I returned the hug. I didn't have to look to feel them staring at me.
I tried to ignore them, focus on the warmth of his arms around me.
He couldn't be a monster. Being on the Tulpar with him wouldn't be so bad.
Even if I had no idea what I was in for.
During a break, I watched some of the girls approach him. They began whispering, pointing in my direction. I swallowed thickly, heart beginning to pound.
He put a hand on his chin in thought and smiled brightly. It couldn't have been something bad if he reacted like that… Right? They walked away giggling cruelly. The pit of dread in my stomach reopened.
I curled in on myself. I wanted to fucking disappear. I willed the tears away, barely holding back from sobbing.
I managed to get through the rest of training, getting home and going into the shower, turning on the water and sitting under the stream.
I began to sob, tears running down my face and onto my chest. They mingled with the cold water, but I felt numb to even the cold this time. I felt fucking empty. I was doomed and I didn't even know what I was gonna face on the Tulpar.
At the end of training, our assignments were posted.
Anya Musume.............................................Tulpar
I swallowed, taking a deep, shaky breath in through my nose. I held it for a few seconds and exhaled through my mouth. I repeated the pattern several times, but my heart rate didn't go down.
I looked down the rest of the list. Other freighters, ground crew, cargo management… I was the only one assigned to the Tulpar.
I stepped away, my throat suddenly closing. I hyperventilated and stepped out. My stomach constricted and I gagged into my hand. I took deep, shuddering breaths, clutching my stomach with one hand while the other went up to my mouth. My mind flashed with horrific images of what would happen on the Tulpar and tears brimmed in my eyes.
I felt a warm hand on my shoulder. My body, as if acting on its own, seized violently, arm lashing out behind me. "Don't touch me!" I didn't recognize my own voice. I barely felt those words tear from my throat. My chest heaved as my vision focused on the figure that the hand belonged to.
Curly, knelt down beside me, his nose now bleeding from the strike.
He pulled his hand away, mouthing an apology. I retched softly, doubling over.
He spoke softly. "Anya. Anya. Anya!" He didn't stop until I looked at him. "Breathe. You'll be okay. The others are just fear-mongering you for a sick joke. There's nothing wrong with the Tulpar."
THERE'S NOTHING WRONG
THERE'S NOTHING WRONG
THERE'S NOTHING WRONG
THERE'S NOTHING WRONG
THERE'S NOTHING WRONG
THERE'S NOTHING WRONG
THERE'S NOTHING WRONG
THERE'S NOTHING WRONG
"Everything's okay."
EVERYTHING'S OKAY
EVERYTHING'S OKAY
EVERYTHING'S OKAY
EVERYTHING'S OKAY
EVERYTHING'S OKAY
EVERYTHING'S OKAY
EVERYTHING'S OKAY
EVERYTHING'S OKAY
I shook my head numbly, mouth going dry. I gagged again, coughing multiple times.
He put both hands on my shoulders, looking me dead in the eye. "Look at me, Anya. You are going to be okay." He enunciated each word, grip tightening.
I took a deep, shuddering breath.
"Okay," I managed.